


Sister, Sister (Sister)

by iamfitzwilliamdarcy



Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 23:36:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11588490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamfitzwilliamdarcy/pseuds/iamfitzwilliamdarcy
Summary: Gen’s sisters come for a visit, and there’s no stopping them from descending upon Irene, who has never had a sister before.  (maybe very very mild spoiler for Thick as Thieves but probably not)





	Sister, Sister (Sister)

When they found out about the pregnancy, there was very little the King of Attolia could do to prevent his sisters from descending upon his castle and, by extension, his wife, an entourage of children in tow. He’d warned Irene as best he could. 

“They talk,” he told her. “Incessantly. And they fuss. Also incessantly.” 

But Irene, who had no sisters and had had no female companionship outside of her attendants and the occasional visit with Eddis, was looking forward to the visit. “You make them sound like hens,” she’d told Eugenides, who’d clucked right back.

It wasn’t until the day of their arrival that Irene also realized she was nervous. Gen laughed when she told her, but, when he realized she was serious, cupped her cheek with his real hand and told her very seriously, “If they love me, and they do, they will love you. But,” and here he grimaced, “they are a storm you will have to get used to.”

So it was that Irene sat stiffly in a chair, while Penelope and Isadora sat on their couches, children tugging at their skirts or running around the room, chattering. They were relaxed against the backs of the couches, twisted towards each other, talking as if they hadn’t seen the other in ages, though Gen had told her they lived just down the street from each other. 

Thinking of Gen made her irritated, though. He was supposed to be there to greet his sisters and, as he said, “make sure they don’t eat you alive.” It hadn’t helped her nerves that he tweaked her nose teasingly after.

“He’s never on time,” Penelope sighed, casting a knowing look to Irene. 

“Incorrigible,” Isadora added, raising her eyes to the heavens as if pleading with the gods. 

Irene opened her mouth to respond just as Gen skidded into the room, his attendants trailing him. He swooped to peck Irene’s cheek, saying, “Never let me send Costis away again.” 

She raised an eyebrow at him, but before she could say anything, his sisters descended. The stood, skirts rustling around them, and stooped to hug Gen, kiss his cheeks, fuss over his life choices. Gen bore the kisses and hair ruffles with exasperated grace.

Which meant he stomped his foot and whined at them to stop as he wriggled away from them. 

“Oh, Gen,” Isadora said, exasperated. Then, with a wink at Irene, “Incorrigible.” As if Irene hadn’t been married to him for years already. 

“Stand back,” Penelope said, flapping her hands. “Let me see you. It’s been far too long.” 

She was the elder, Irene knew, and she acted like it. She was tall and noble, commanding but gracious. A matron, Irene supposed, was queen of her own household. And they were raised minor princesses, just as she herself had been. 

“You’ve grown a little,” Penelope said, which made Irene snort with laughter.

“A little,” Irene agreed. 

Gen threw her a wounded look, and Isadora laughed out loud. 

Penelope shook her head, smiling. “Eugenides, dear, it is good to see you. Now take the children and shoo. We want some time with your lovely wife.” 

“I’m being kicked out?” Gen said. 

“Decisively,” Isadora put in.

“In my own castle?”

Penelope tugged at his arm. “Shoo, shoo,” she said. “And don’t look so injured. You don’t really want to hear some silly old women talk anyway.”

“You’re not old,” Gen said sulkily.

“Of course not,” Isadora, just a few years older than Irene herself, agreed.

But Penelope said, “It’s nice of you to say so, dear. Stenides and Father send their love, by the way. Temenus is stationed far away and has no idea where any of us are, but word has it he’s caught up in a new girl. And let that news carry you for the day. We are talking only of babies and marriage and family from here on out, and you’ll miss no gossip you’re interested in.”

“And no eavesdropping,” Isadora warned him, wagging a finger at her. “We’ll know.”

Gen stood in the doorway a moment longer, then looked to his queen. She gave a half shrug and a nod, and he smiled back. Mouthed, “Sorry,” and, turned and left, calling to all his nieces and nephews to come with him.

Irene liked the image of children following after him like little ducklings. She moved her hand to touch her stomach, where their own child was growing inside her. 

Penelope smiled down at her, and then sat down on her right side. Isadora followed quickly onto Irene’s left. 

“So,” Isadora said, giving her a mischievous grin. “Tell us all about our Brother-King.” 

“I think,” Irene said, after a moment, “I might prefer to hear your stories of him.”

Penelope laughed. “Oh do we have them!” 

Irene relaxed into her sofa, listening to her husband’s sisters. They told her of the time Eugenides had tried to steal Isadora’s earrings—“a birthday present from our father!”—and how outraged he’d been when she had caught him in the act. Of his first riding lesson where he had told a horse under no uncertain terms he was fond of it, and the horse had told him, in no uncertain terms, where he could put his pulling hands and kicking feet. How he’d cried for hours at a very young age after accidentally squishing a worm. How, at a ripe age of almost eight, he’d threatened Penelope’s husband on their wedding day (“very intimidating, he was, with a black eye and three missing baby teeth.” “But he did kick his shin and bit his finger; never underestimate that one, would’a done more damage if Stenides hadn’t picked him up and slung him over his shoulder, still ready to fight.”) How he had always made sure to dance with each of them and their mother at every event he’d been forced to attend 

Irene liked listening to them talk. They interrupted each other, talked over one another, shrieked with laughter. It was a casual camaraderie she’d never been privy too. She’d always thought the women of her court a little silly, the wives of barons trying to impress, but maybe she had just been missing out. Maybe she had just never known what it was to have friends.

So she took a chance and said, “He pretends to forget the Mede ambassador.”

The other women paused for a moment in their stories, and Irene felt a horrible drop in her stomach, as if she’d said the wrong thing. She had faced down political enemies, stoic, cold, but these women, warm and open, made her nervous.

Then Isadora cackled, and Penelope shook her head, affecting exasperation, and Irene relaxed again. 

Then Penelope turned serious and said, “How are you feeling? Are you nervous at all? I was wreck when I was expecting my first child.”

 

“I--,” Irene didn’t know how to put her fear into words. That she had never been very maternal, that she knew only how to demand what she wanted, that she had barely started learning again what it was to love, to ungaurd her heart. 

“They take you off guard,” Isadora said, nodding knowingly. She smiled. “They’re so little and so needy, and I never wanted to be tied down. I was so convinced I would never be a good mother. Too wild, my aunts always said. Until I held my baby in my arms—it was like everything changed.” 

Penelope added, “There’s never any perfect way of doing things. It’s perfectly normal to be afraid.”

They moved on to discussing practicals. Penelope started a handwritten list of things the baby would need. Irene noticed Phresine nodding every so often as Penelope spoke aloud the items she wrote. 

Finally, it was near dinner, and Isadora told Penelope to slow down. “We’ve overwhelmed her, the poor dear,” she said, her eyes dancing. 

“It is a lot to take in,” Penelope said, patting Irene’s shoulder. “But you’ll be just fine, don’t you worry.”

“Thank you,” Irene managed. There was some warmth filling her, the warmth she felt when Teleus stood by her side or when Relius returned to her or when Gen kissed her softly in a shared bed. She was never quite sure what to do with it. “For everything.”

Penelope smiled gently at her and Isadora reached for her hand, squeezing it fondly.

She said, “You’re our sister, now, after all,” and Irene smiled back.


End file.
